


The O'Sangster Series

by TheAllShipperKAZ2Y5



Category: Real Person Fiction, Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner (2014)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Cuddles, Cuddling, Dry Humping, Fluff, Grinding, Humour, Hybrid AU, Hybrid!Dylan, Hybrid!Thomas, Kissing, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Drinking, Light drug use, M/M, Mini-Fic, More tags to be added, Roleplay, Sleepy Boys, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow kissing, Smut, Student/Teacher, The Maze Runner - Freeform, Underage Sex, sleepy kissing, snuggles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2843417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAllShipperKAZ2Y5/pseuds/TheAllShipperKAZ2Y5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of mini-fics/one-shots involving Dylan O'Brien/Thomas Brodie-Sangster.</p>
<p>Each is inspired by a picture, which will be shown at the start of each one. The mini-fics/one-shots are in separate chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby Are You A Maths Problem Because I Wanna Spend All Night On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan gets a bit more than he bargained for when he accepts the assignment of covering for a teacher at Beacon Hills High.

When Dylan actually finds the class he's supposed to spend the next week teaching, it's not exactly what he expected. There's only a handful of them and that's the first thing he noticed, slipping into the classroom nearly un-noticed. There's maybe...Seven of them? Seven. Including a kid grinning at him with pretty half-moon eyes and biceps that could probably crush him if placed correctly.

The second thing Dylan notices as he stumbles towards his desk is that there's an angel on the window. Literally.

The kid is slim and lithe-looking, all endless skinny legs and delicate wrists. His skin is pale in the milky way, not the -smokes-drugs-and-lives-underground way. His hair is fluffy and golden and swept across his forehead and everything about the kid is just  _delicate_ and  _pretty_ and Thomas wants to hold this kid forever and-

Whoah. Back up like a motherfucking truck. Nope the hell outta  _that_ thought.

Apparently while he's been having an inappropriate internal crisis he's been spotted because when he blinks again Angel Boy is staring straight at him with a sweet little half-smile and a tipped head and Dylan wants to lick him like an ice cream cone. Instead, he ripped himself away from his staring contest and did his most confident stride to his desk, plopping down into the chair and picking up the little guidance/instruction booklet left for him by the teacher he's covering for.

Everyone's noticed him by now because they're all sitting upright in their seats an facing the front, even if they are still chatting away quietly. There's a significantly louder "Brooding villain time is over, Tommy" and Dylan can't help but flick his eyes up over the top of the page to see what's happening when Angel Boy gives a soft sigh and stands, all but floats over to the kid who'd grinned at him when he walked in and slipped elegantly into the seat besides him.

Back to reading. And quickly.

The nub and gist of it is, is that this is a small Drama Major class who've been placed apart from the others because of their exceptional talents and uncanny knack for pranking their classmates. Dylan loves them already. There's also a little side note entitled 'Thomas' that has Dylan instantly ducking to read it.

_Thomas is one of my best students, and he's like an older brother to the rest of the class despite being the youngest. He usually sits by the window, and I've found it best to just let him. He does his best thinking there. He knows what to do, so if you need help within the class I suggest you turn to him rather than the Head of Department._

Right. So not only is Thomas some sort of fallen Angel sent to grace Earth with beauty, but he's also crazy-talented at Drama and more grown up than Dylan. Great. He's only been here five minutes and he already feels inadequate. Drawing in a slow breath, he scanned over the curriculum for the week. Nothing major. Developing characters, how to really get emotions through, basic stuff really. Stuff Dylan's done over and over. Nodding to himself, he decided against actual work today in favor of getting to know his students. It was pointless trying to improve a character when you didn't knew the real person.

So he stood, picked up the board-marker Sharpie from his satchel pocket and turned for the white-board behind him, neatly scrawling down his name as  _Dylan O'Brien_ rather than  _Mr.O'Brien._ He was only a supply teacher, and besides. This was drama. Satisfied that it didn't look like a mad spider scrawl, he turned to the class to find a pretty girl with ginger hair like a Goddess' already with her hand up. Brilliant start. No doubt he'd missed out a capital letter somewhere in his own goddamn name.

"Yes?"

"I've seen you before. You played Jared in The First Timer, and you were the boy with superpowers in the last Hero Almighty". God, is everyone here a movie-star in the making? She's gorgeous and her voice is like honey and she's in a special acting class for being great. Dylan's ready to rip up his CV, put a bottle of Jack inside a brown paper bag and go cry on a park bench. Unfortunately, he's stuck here with flaming red cheeks and unattractive bug eyes because the realization just dawned on him that he was practically naked in both those movies. 

_Grit your teeth and bear it, O'Brien._

"Yeah, I was in those movies. Nothing major though, they were just side-roles. I was practically an extra" he shrugged, and she didn't look as though she thought the same but let it drop, along with her perfectly manicured hand. Dylan made the mistake of glancing around the room and found sparkling golden eyes fixed on him, Angel Boy/Thomas giving him that same, sweet little half-smile except now he looked knowing.

Narrowing his eyes for a split second, Dylan turned away again. "Right. Enough talk about my public undecency and more talk about the reason I'm here. As you probably know your actual teacher is away for the week on holiday, so I've been hauled in as a temporary replacement. There was an incredibly boring lesson plan left behind for you which I'm going to completely ignore, and we're gonna spend the lesson chatting". By the time he's done they're all grinning at him. Or at least looking pleased. He counts that as a win.

"Alrighty. Well, we'll get the boring bit out of the way first. I'm gonna toss you something and you're gonna catch it, give your name and three facts about you, and then toss it to someone who hasn't caught it yet. Sound alright?" he asked, and got a series of nods in return. The muscle-chunk Asian kid was looking absolutely delighted, so Dylan chose him to throw to first. Pulling his I.D card and entry pass from around his neck and wrapped the necklace part of it around the card and then tossed it to the kid practically bouncing in his seat.

He caught it by lunging halfway over his desk, and Thomas gave him a side-ways glance, apparently only mildly startled. 

"Alright. Uh, my name is Ki-Hong Lee, I'm seventeen, I'm allergic to artificial banana flavorings and I'm best friends with this mug" he grinned at the last part, ruffling Thomas' hair until it hid the rest of his face from view. Then he turned and tossed it to a curly haired puppy near the back of the class, who looked startled that it had even been tossed in his general direction. Dylan already wanted to hug him. He was clutching the pass to his chest and had shrunk down in his seat, practically curling away from everyone.

"Um...My name is Isaac Lahey, I'm seventeen, I have a cat called Kenco and I like scarves" he mumbled, as though unsure if what he was saying was right and Dylan gave him a reassuring grin. "Scarves, huh? You'd love my collection then. Got 12 of 'em. I'll wear one tomorrow and you can tell me if I look like a granny-mugger or if I look like a fashion model" he winked, and Isaac seemed to relax, giving a tiny, brief flutter of giggles before tossing the pass as gently as he possibly could to the goddess girl.

She caught it as elegantly as Dylan expected her to, and set it down on her desk instead of holding it as she spoke, like the others. "My name is Holland Roden, I'm seventeen, I've won School Queen six years in a row and I plan to be famous. Also, your tie is crooked".

Dylan blinked. Then again, then glanced down almost self-consciously as Holland tossed the pass to someone else. Sure enough, his navy silk tie was a little crooked and he wiggled it indignantly. 

Soon, everyone but Thomas had caught the pass and Dylan knew his entire class. There was Isaac, Ki-Hong, Holland, Thomas, Alfie, Jessie, Tyler and Jordan.

Tyler tossed the pass to Thomas, who'd been folded over his desk, chin on his forearms. Then he lifted his head slightly and his arm shot out and in the time it took Dylan to blink the pass was against Thomas' chest as he folded his arms demurely again. Dylan nearly fell off the desk when a smooth, thick British accent all but dripped off his tongue like honey. "My name is Thomas Brodie-Sangster, I'm sixteen-".

"Just" Ki-Hong jumped in with a shit-eating grin, and Thomas gave him an icy look before rolling his eyes fondly and carrying on.

"My best friend is a complete shank and I'm gay" he spoke softly and casually, and Dylan gave him a nod, restrained himself from doing a happy-dance. So he just nodded.

"Looks like you got the typical good fashion sense. Wish I had. I can't dress well for the life of me". It was about as sly, subtle and casual as he could make it, and for a moment it seemed as though he'd been  _so_ sneaky that it hadn't gotten through, and then Jordan's fluffy white head shot up.

"Wait, Sir, You're gay too?" he asked, and Alfie dug him in the ribs for being so brazen about it but Dylan just chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah. Have been since I was born. Unfortunately though I didn't get the fashion sense, or the flamboyant confidence, or the biting-funny sass" he shrugged in an 'ah well' sort of manner and caught Thomas' eye. Angel Boy was smiling at him, head lolling and dimples just slightly on show, eyes still mostly hidden by his mussed hair.

Dylan clapped his hands together gently, and returned to sit on the edge of his desk, looking across the class. "Alrighty. Well, I guess it's only fair I tell you a bit about myself. You already know my name, so I won't bother being an idiot and telling you..." he trailed off, twiddling the Sharpie in his hands and wondering what he could tell them. 

"Okie kokie. Well, I'm 22. As Holland pointed out I've been in a few minor movies as a side-role. Nowhere near famous. Um...I used to have a cat, but it turns out she loved my best friend more than me. Which is basically the story of my life. Uh...I love the Mets, cookies and acting" he finished with a light shrug, a habit of his. He let the class stew in silence for a moment and then stood.

"Alright then. Well, part of the lesson plan was to work on character development. So what I'm gonna do is give you a sort of scene or criteria, and I want you to spend the rest of the lesson building a character. Anything or one you wish. If you like you can add to it at home, but it's not homework. You can use whatever you like to inspire you. Books, music, images from your phones, whatever". He uncapped the pen and stood, turning to the board.

**Setting:**

**A futuristic Central London where the minority of people have superpowers. The Government has 'tagged' these people and sometimes they go missing, never to be heard of again. The rest of the time the Government enlists them as 'peace keepers' or 'soldiers/watchers' to help keep the city in line. The rest is up to you. Whether your character is a normal human or one with superpowers (try to keep the numbers even). Whether your character has seen or been involved in something dangerous or traumatizing. If they're secretly an Agent of the Government. Be creative, be original.**

Satisfied, he turned away and plopped down on his desk to get to work on future lesson plans. He had to figure out where he was going with this. These kids were smart and talented and he needed to treat them like actors, not students. The lesson went by surprisingly fast after that, filled with quiet chatter and muffled music and the furious scribbling of pens on paper. When the buzzer finally went more than one student jumped in their seat, and then they all stood and began to pack away, drifting into a group and talking animatedly. 

Dylan was so busy packing up his stuff he didn't notice Thomas gliding over until there was a soft "Sir?" that had more than one thing jumping to attention. When he looked up, Thomas was holding out his school pass, the neck strap wound elegantly around his slender fingers and Dylan offered a smile as he took gentle hold of the pass, watching the strap unwind and slide free. He slipped it over his neck as Thomas stood there watching him, and then met his new students gaze again.

"I thought you were great in The First Timer" Thomas offered, eyes twinkling and voice slyly teasing but sincere too and before Dylan could open his mouth Angel Boy had swept away, joining up with Ki-Hong and a shy Isaac by the doorway.

He was screwed. Big time.

By the time his next lesson came around, he was a little freaked. He had two hours with these kids, with  _Thomas._ The world was punishing him for something, he was sure, because when he wandered into the classroom an hour early to sort through paperwork and the lesson plan and get stuff written on the board Thomas was curled up on the window seat with a Starbucks and a book in his lap, head lolling against the glass pane.

Dylan looked down at his own Starbucks and copy of To Kill A Mockingbird and decided he was never drinking coffee and reading for leisure ever again. When he looked back up, Thomas was gazing across at him with that stupid, dopey smile and Dylan was helpless but to smile back, making his way to his desk. True to his word he'd worn his long navy scarf, tied in the Sherlock way around his neck and left dangling between the huge lapels of his charcoal wool coat. Dylan liked to think he was more 'Odd' than 'hipster'. His friends could never fit him into a category. One day he was beanies and sweaters and tattered VANS and the next he was a Henley and ripped jeans and combat boots. Fitting in and fitting into one slot had never suited Dylan.

Dumping his satchel down on his desk he shrugged off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair, slotting an old train ticket that held sentiment into his book as a bookmark and setting that on the desk too. When he looked up, Thomas had completely changed around so he was in pretty much the same position, but facing Dylan now.

"It was nice, what you did yesterday. For Isaac" Thomas clarified. "He needs all the kindness in the world, and he doesn't get it". Thomas' tone was soft, as though sad, but Dylan knew better than to ask. Though his concern was now hiked up to maximum. Something had obviously happened to the timid kid, and it only made Dylan want to cuddle him up more.

Sufficing his curiosity with a nod, Dylan set out the lesson plan and rolled his shoulders with a hum scanning over it. Eventually, ignoring Angel Boy just wasn't an option because Thomas had left his seat in favor of leaning on the desk, taking out a few folded sheets of paper from his back pocket and holding them out to Dylan.

"It's my character development" he explained, when Dylan took it. The sheets were smooth despite being in a pocket, and the writing was elegant calligraphy that made Dylan want to stab himself with his pen. There was nothing about this kid that wasn't perfect. It was reinforced when Dylan realized that Thomas had actually done an actor-script style character analysis, in-depth and everything. From his biggest fear to the fact that he'd lost his memory to allergies. It was all there in neat black ink and Dylan blinked a few times. 

"I can see why Mr.Carver likes you" he mumbled, scanning over the page. His character was called Newt, was sixteen like Thomas, and was male. (Dylan would have thought that was obvious until later, when Ki-Hong came in and announced his character as a busty black woman named Shyniqua.)

The more he read, the more...Sad he felt for Newt. It was like reading a book and watching the character that deserved the best get thrown the worst. Thomas watched him as he read, head cocked and lower lip sucked between his teeth and when Dylan set down the page he was ready to just curl up in a hole and die because  _he was an actor and a school student was better at his job than he was._

"This is amazing, Thomas. Good bo- _job_ " Dylan stuttered over himself, about to say 'good boy' when he realized that was Dangerous territory with a capital D. No pun intended. Thomas still lit up like the sun, despite the knowing glint in his cognac eyes. Dylan handed the character sheets back and hastily went back to jotting down notes for todays class, fully hyper-aware of the fact that Thomas had yet to move. It made him feel studies, picked apart and absolutely bloody ridiculous. When the buzzer for the lesson went, Thomas slunk back to his window seat and stayed there. 

When the entire class was in and settle and both of Ki-Hongs outbursts (One over his character, the other over Thomas not sitting besides him) were smoothed over Dylan moved to sit on the edge of his desk again. He searched for Isaac, and found him huddled at the back again. The classroom was like a mini auditorium/theatre, the seats going up in a sort of ( shape. There was only six rows, but it was enough to both be daunting and ensure that Isaac was three rows behind everyone else. When the kid noticed him staring, he jumped than shrank back, and Dylan smiled as warmly as he could at Isaac before moving his gaze on, determined that by the end of the week Isaac would be at least in the third row. 

"Alright. So if everyone besides Ki-Hong has their characters, I'd like you to look at your sheets and choose three facts about your character to read out. Be imaginative, not just their name and age. In fact, I don't want any names or ages at all. I just want you to tell me three facts about your character" he instructed, tugging his pass over his neck again and taking off his scarf while he was at it now he was sure Isaac had seen it. He'd chat to him later. 

He tossed it to Alfie, who scrambled to catch it and then instantly begun rifling through what looked like 30 sheets of paper. 

"My character is a normal human" he begun, and Dylan nodded. He was glad to see that they hadn't all just scrambled to have a super power or an 'important/major' character. Turning yourself into someone else was about how  _real_ you made your character. How much  _life_ you gave them beyond just a face. People had to believe this person was real. They had to think of them not as a person from a book or from a film but as an actual person who'd gone through these things. A character was nothing if he was just a nobody with a power.

"He's kind of a nerd, but not a techie nerd. I'm always annoyed by how in books and films normal people just so happen to know everything about everything or they're suddenly amazing at fighting" Alfie huffed, and Dylan was inclined to agree. Sure, some or most people could self-teach themselves things or figure things out sort of quickly, but there was no way you'd be able to repair something like a spaceship if you'd spent the past 16 years of your life drooling over Playboy models and screaming at 12 year olds on Call of Duty. 

"Anyway, he's just your average 'nerd'. Um...Lets see...Fact number three...Um...Oh! He's asexual. Intimacy and other people don't interest him. I also hate how every book or film is driven by a romance plot. So I figured I'd completely get rid of the possibility of a romance plot" Alfie looked pleased with himself, and Dylan decided he loved this kid too.

By the time they got around the class, Dylan had figured that Thomas always went last for things. Sipping idly on his Starbucks, Thomas gracefully caught the pass when Holland threw it to him, and sifted to the second sheet of paper in his lap.

"My first fact is that beyond his name, my character has no memories. He has no second name, and only knowledge, not actual memories or anecdotes of his own life. For example he knows that logically he has parents. But he has no idea who they are, what happened to them, what they're names are. Nothing. My second fact is that he's a leader by nature. Not controlling, but patient and guiding. Willing to listen and help and understand and put others before himself. My third fact is that his favourite flavor of ice cream is chocolate".

By the time he was done everyone was looking at him, and Dylan gave a nod. He wasn't sure he could have done much else, really. Bar run over and snog his lights out.

The lesson went alright after that. Dylan worked with each of them individually and helped them explore their characters, helped them begin to nudge into  _being_ that person. Thinking as them, acting as them. By the end of it Ki-Hong was flipping imaginary hair and talking with a ghetto accent and Jordan was making imaginary pens float around the classroom and Alfie was sitting quietly with a pair of fake nerd glasses and reading a book and even Isaac was tentatively practicing a British accent. Dylan watched them all for a moment, before approaching Isaac as nicely as he could.

"What did you think of my scarf, Ise? I'll bet it's not as nice as any of yours" he hummed, and Isaac actually relaxed a little, offering a small smile. "I would have chosen black, with the colour of your coat, but I like it" he responded, and Dylan felt his heart glow with surprise and fondness. Isaac seemed unsure of himself as he spoke, cautious as though expecting to get hit and- and that was not a nice thought/realization. 

"Well, thank you for saving me from looking like an idiot in the future!" he made sure to keep his grin small and friendly as he took a seat a bit away from him, so hopefully he wouldn't feel cornered or caged. "So, whenever I wear that coat I gotta wear a black scarf with it, huh?" he asked, and Isaac nodded slowly but surely. They spoke for a while longer, topics drifting until it was just Dylan asking ridiculous questions like "But what if the world was made out of peanut butter and you were allergic to nuts?" and Isaac quietly snickering away.

Eventually Dylan remembered he was actually a teacher and had to teach, and apologetically excusing himself he wormed his way across the classroom to where Thomas was curled up after noting that Thomas was in fact the only student he hadn't gotten to yet. Thomas was sitting quietly, body apparently relaxed yet alert because when Dylan was within a certain distance he looked up, and kept eye contact. Dylan was used to people staring, but constant eyeballing was a little un-nerving.

"Alrighty, Thomas. I've been left a specific note singin' your praises like an angel choir. I expect good things. Tell me a little bit about Newt". 

Thomas, keeping eye contact, glanced away only very briefly to set aside his book and then he was back to staring. Not invasively, just as if searching for something. Or as if keeping his sights on something he'd already spotted. Dylan still squirmed.

"My name is Newt. I don't have a second name. Or if I do, I don't know what it is. I'm almost certain I'm sixteen, and I'm a telepath". Thomas spoke surely, in first person and in character. It became clear that Newt was confident, but quietly so. In fact, more sure within himself than confident. Dylan nodded for him to carry on.

"If I maintain eye contact, I can bend another persons will to my own. I can communicate via telepathy and I can hear the thoughts of others if I focus on them. If I strain myself, I get a nosebleed". There was an air of authority in Thomas' voice, as though used to having people listen. Or used to having to make them listen. The first revelation explained Thomas' sudden full on, un-breaking eye contact and Dylan felt a little more relaxed now he knew. 

"Good, Thomas" he responded, careful to break the 'spell' gently and he watched Newt slip from Thomas like shrugging out of a coat, the change in body language and aura visible and almost enthralling. Dylan clapped his hands, and checked his watch. Today's lesson was two hours. He had an hour left. Time to delve a little deeper into their characters.

Grabbing his Sharpie from his pocket, he turned for the board and then noticed something. His pass was neatly wrapped in it's neck strap and was cradled in the space between Thomas' hip and thigh. Not as though Thomas was trying to hide it, but rather that he was trying to keep it safe.

Dylan tried not to think too hard about that, and went back to the board. 

**Reaction and Response:  
Every situation in life has two outcomes. A reaction, and a response. By now you should know the difference in the two, so I won't bother with the explanation. Your task for today -and for tonight, if you so choose- is to look at the listed situations below and R &R to them as yourself, and then as your character.  For example you may get startled by a situation, whereas your character gets angered by it. The situations are as follows: (You may choose as many as you like but remember; quality not quantity.)**

1\. You are in a coffee shop. When you turn around with your fresh cup of coffee, someone crashes into your chest. You both end up soaked in scalding coffee.  
2\. You wake up in the middle of the night to your alarm going off. You did not set it for this time.  
3\. You are outside when a person of your preferred gender approaches and offers you a rose.

**Try to exclude yourself from the Hawthorne Effect. (Changing your behavior because you are being observed). Remember. You are first yourself, and then your character. Props will be provided to aid you should you feel you need them.**

Feeling like a pro, Dylan plopped himself into his seat and spent the rest of the lesson observing. Ki-Hong's was by far he most amusing, Isaac's was a little heartbreaking, Alfie mimed obliterating whatever had offended him and Thomas...Thomas seemed to have chosen the third option. Watching him was mesmerizing. It was as though there was really someone before him, offering a pretty red flower. Then Dylan was distracted by Tyler flipping over the back of a chair and he had to sort out  _that_ disaster. 

By the end of the lesson everyone really seemed to be getting a feel for their characters. What had started out as an idea was now being sculpted, perfected. Even Isaac seemed to be enjoying himself. Ki-Hong was just crazy and Thomas was just crazy talented. By the time the bell rung they seemed to be quite into their task. Holland stayed behind for a minute to copy down the task. Her character seemed to be pretty much herself, but a little more hardened around the edges. A little more stand-offish than just superior. Thomas had already packed his things away but remained sitting on the edge of the window seat, tapping Dylan's card against his thigh as he waited.

Holland left in a flounce of perfume and poofy skirt and then there was two. Dylan packed up his things and wiped the board, and when he turned around Thomas was sitting cross-legged on his desk, pass dangling from the neck strap elegantly from one knee. Dylan hesitated, but then moved to his chair and sat in it like a child sent to the Headmaster's office for a verbal beat-down. Thomas watched him all the while, and the aura of authority around him made Dylan wonder if he was looking at Thomas, or Newt.

It turned out to be Thomas, who had a free period next. They chatted as student and teacher first, keeping things formal and polite until Dylan begun to just think 'fuck it' and slipped from Mr.O'Brien to Dylan O'Brien, sinking back in his chair and chatting openly. The topic drifted from school to Isaac to their current task and then somehow to Dylan acting career and then back to school, until the buzzer ringing startled them both out of their little bubble and Thomas slipped from the desk, all but standing between Dylan's spread legs. He lifted the pass and leant forwards, slipping it over Dylan's neck and the latter could barely breathe. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr.O'Brien" Thomas purred, grabbing his satchel and all but prancing from the classroom.

Dylan stared at his ass the entire way. 

The next two lessons seemed to go by in a flash. Or rather, in a slow and sexually agonising trundle. When they acted out their scenes, first as themselves, then as their characters, Thomas revealed he'd chosen the rose option, and Dylan somehow wound up as the person offering the rose. It starts off normal enough. While himself, Thomas accepts the (real) rose prop sweetly, actually getting a little flustered. It's adorable and endearing and Dylan has to take a moment before he 'resets' the scene.

This time, it's clear that it's Newt in charge. He's busy when Dylan approaches. Staring hard at something as though trying to use his mind to explode whatever is in his sights and when Dylan gently touches his shoulder his reaction is a snap, as though about to drop Dylan to the ground but he halts himself, visibly forces into a semi-relaxed stance. It's then Dylan notices for the first time that Newt has a limp. His right leg seems able to hold weight but only just, his walk a little lopsided. Enough to be noticed. He leg never quite bends or straightens properly, and Dylan has to think for a moment to distinguish if it's a trait of Thomas' or of Newt's.

He offers the rose, like Newt is some mythical creature and too sudden, too brazen a movement will cause him to flee. Before he can even open his mouth Thomas is suddenly  _right there._ Up close and having rounded on him, staring into his eyes as though physically tugging out his neurosystem and re-plugging it to programme Dylan into doing exactly what he wants. The eye contact never breaks, never wavers. Holland and Jordan are leaning forwards in their seats and Dylan suddenly becomes aware of the fact that he'd sucked in a breath and held it, but it was like his ribs had formed an actual cage, holding in the fast-running out supply of oxygen.

Thomas' voice is low, dangerously and deathly quiet when he does talk. It's like steel, reinforced and hard, authority and order crammed into one sentence. 

"When I finish talking you are going to turn around and forget I exist. You are not going to remember seeing me, or approaching me and when you no longer see me after I'm done talking you will not remember me at all. When I stop talking I want you to turn around and walk away, and give the rose to someone who can appreciate it".

Thomas was rigid as he spoke, grinding the words out as though in pain, even trembling just ever so slightly, gaze hard.

Dylan stood for a moment, mind reeling. He felt like he was under cotton and then, as though confused by his own actions, turned sluggishly and stepped hesitantly away, headed off towards the classroom door. When he turned around to call for the end of the scene, Thomas was stood there, dabbing at his nose with a delicate finger and staring at it as though disgusted. Blood. Imaginary blood.

A nosebleed.

"End scene" he called, had to cough a little to avoid sounding like a toad. The class clapped, as they had. Ki-Hong even wolf whistled. Even Isaac was enthusiastic. (Dylan had managed to coax him one seat forwards. He counted it as a win and had snuck in chocolate for him).

Things go downhill after that.

It had become tradition, almost. Every time the class had a lesson in the morning, or after lunch, Thomas was there an hour early, curled up in the window seat with coffee and a new book and they'd chat. About their books, about the classes. Anything and everything. Then the class would start and they'd toss Dylan's pass around and it always, always ended up with Thomas, kept with the student until the end of the lesson when he'd slip it over Dylan's neck again.

It effectively goes to shit the day Dylan finds out he's been booked for an extra five days. The kids have built up their characters quite well, and Dylan feels they're ready to take it a step further. From the moment they walk into his classroom he wants them to be their characters. 

What he doesn't expect one morning when he turns up with his coat only on by one shoulder, his scarf around his thighs and his book crumpled to his chest is to find Thomas crying. At first it just looks like he's peacefully curled up in a ball. And then Dylan squints and sees the rises of his spine through his shirt from how tightly and awkwardly he's folded in half. Sees the way his shoulders shake and now and then his head moved as though he's wiping his eyes on his forearms. 

When Thomas notices him, he shakes his head like he knows what Dylan is about to say and do and that's that. They just sit together, Thomas with his head between his knees and Dylan watching his shoulders shake until they just...drop.

It repeats itself. It's their new routine. For three days. Only each time Thomas lets him closer, sometimes even talks a little. Clutches his I.D pass as though it's a protection shield. Everyone notices. Ki-Hong becomes quieter. They've slipped into Dylan's plan perfectly, from the moment they walk into the classroom they're not Tyler and Alfie and Holland and Jessie and Jordan and Isaac and Thomas. They're Newt and Ashton and Darcy and Shyniqua and the others. Ki-Hong even keeps two footballs in the classroom closet to stuff up his shirt during lessons.

Thomas isn't okay, but he hides behind Newt. 

It's Dylan's last but one day and...He should be making them work. But they all look so miserable. Jessie's re-applying her make-up for a third time, Isaac's retreated back to the back of the class and even sunny Ki-Hong is just kind of...Sitting there. Thomas hasn't moved from his window seat and it doesn't look like he's going to. Dylan hadn't planned on using his pass activity today but Thomas had come up to him, dithered for about a year before quietly asking if he could just hold it and...And he'd looked so sad an d lost Dylan handed it straight over without a word. 

Now, sitting on the edge of his desk, same as always...He knows there's more than one thing they're all letting go. It's never usually this hard. For crying out loud he'd only been with them for about eleven days. Holland's eyeballing him like she might, might just be nice for once and...They're kids. Sure, only two or three years younger than him. But still kids. They shouldn't be this sad just because a guy they've known for a few days won't be around any more. 

So he decides to let them have fun. Ten minutes later and they're all outside with coffee from the canteen, sitting in the semi-shade of a tree in the grass, aimlessly chatting. Isaac's about as far away from everyone and as close to Dylan as he can get and Thomas...Thomas is actually in the tree  _above_ them, legs dangling as he lounges and listens. Dylan's sure to get a berating for this and that but he couldn't care. Maybe they'll do the same tomorrow, for his final day. 

They chat about everything and nothing, the lulls between conversation easy. Ki-Hong sniffles over saying goodbye to his 44DD chest and with coaxing from Dylan, Isaac spends the hour and a half they have talking in a British accent that has Thomas slipping from the tree and sitting besides him and the two chat in their accents, Thomas helping Isaac with pronunciation and in turn Isaac teaching Thomas a few French words (Dylan had no idea he was fluent in French).

 The end of the lesson comes, and everyone is reluctant to leave. Jesse and Holland are pretending not to care, filing their nails while Ki-Hong and Alfie make a terrible show of packing up as slowly as they possibly can. Jordan and Tyler are just sitting there, bags already packed in their laps, staring hard at Dylan and when Dylan glances to the side, Thomas has his hand on Isaac's arm. Eventually, they're all gone. The spot Dylan chose was out of the way of other students streaming out of school for the end of the day and Dylan watched until there was nobody left, and lay back in the grass.

How long he lay there, he doesn't know. Therefore, he doesn't know how long Thomas was there. But when he eventually gathered the energy to move and opened his eyes, Thomas was sitting in the grass besides him, winding and twisting strands of grass together in a bracelet. To say he flails a little would probably be an understatement but he's not willing to admit to that yet. Thomas doesn't look at him, just carries on twisting the grass as though Dylan was still laying there with his eyes shut.

So, naturally, Dylan takes the time to stare, settling back in the grass with his hands over his stomach and just observing. The sun is a little less bright, lower in the sky and starting to hide behind afternoon clouds but none the less it's lighting up Thomas' hair a little, the edges a feathery halo. It highlights just how un-tanned he is for an American. Or a Brit living in America. Whatever he is. Thomas is skinny, sure, but it's a pretty skinny/ The type of skinny that means he's never been fat in his life. But he's got muscle. He's lithe, built with muscle that comes from work and fighting and not the useless past-time of pumping iron for hours on end. It's subtle.

Dylan likes it.

In fact, he likes the delicate, slender wrists. He likes the cute little button nose that scrunches when Thomas talks and laughs and acts mortified. He likes the honey hair-halo and the fashion sense and the way that Thomas' personality and morals would make Gandhi and Mother Teresa turn in their notices. 

It's Thomas who breaks the silence. 

"I'm sorry I've been so miserable. It's your last few days here and you should have enjoyed them".

"I did".

Thomas half looks at him and gives him that same not-quite-smile that still manages to light up the world, like he's endeared by the interruption. Dylan shut his eyes quickly and turned his nose back to the sky.

"We're all going to miss you. Or we're going to miss the fun you create. Either way it's linked back to you. And... _I'm_ going to miss you, y'know. Which is stupid. But not as stupid as the fact that I want to kiss you practically every second that ticks by. Which I know if I was somehow successful in that Id either die of oxygen deprivation, starvation or dehydration." _  
_

By now Dylan is sure he's having a heart-attack in the grass. In reality he's just laying there, staring up with saucer eyes at the sky. This is breaking every law there is about teaching.

And yet, he can't help it that the idea springs to him that after tomorrow he'll no longer be Thomas' teacher. When he turns his head Thomas is looking at him, softly and sweetly and a little searchingly.

"This is inappropriate" is all he can blurt out, and Thomas gives the softest little chuckle Dylan thinks is possible. 

"I know it is. But I said I wanted to. Not I was going to. I've been taught from a young age that honesty is the best policy". Thomas says that last bit with a hint of distaste in his voice, as though those words have been used against him before now. Used to reveal something he wanted to keep to himself. It has Dylan wondering if it's why he's been sad lately.

"I never said I didn't want to, either. Only that it's inappropriate".

Thomas gives that little half-smile again and stands. He must have left his bag somewhere because it's not with him. Dylan sat up, watched him walk away and called out "If you're not in class tomorrow I'm going to personally complain!".

Thomas' laugh haunts him all the way home. Rings in his ears when he's in bed that night, face turned into his arm as he rolls against the sheets and Thomas' name passes silently from his lips as he shudders.

On his last day, Dylan's last class with the Drama group is after lunch. So he sends out a message to all their teachers asking them to only eat a little during lunch because as a special treat he's brought in a sort of mini-picnic for them.

As a general rule he'd avoided the other teachers. He was only in for one lesson a day anyway so he's only in the school an average of three hours, but he still gets a few emails back gushing over how sweet that is. From the female teachers, naturally. 

The classroom is set. Dylan's desk has been cleared and acts as the picnic table, with plates of cakes and party foods set out and with large bottles of carbonated soft drinks set out with cups from the canteen. It looks good.

Not as good as Thomas looks when he breezes around the door, halfway through biting an apple and just stops. All the students have been told is to try not to eat a lot during lunch time. Thomas clearly wasn't expecting this. He's wearing a light blue shirt and a slightly baggy grey sweater. Skin-tight skinny jeans and sleek dress shoes. For a few moments they just stand there, Dylan frozen from where he's setting out the last of the fairy cakes and Thomas frozen in the doorway.

"You're..." Thomas trails off. Dylan isn't sure what he was going to say but he nods anyway because he has an idea. He' crazy, he's an idiot, he's planned them a party, he's slightly insane?

All probably.

"Bless the person who marries you, Mr.O'Brien" Thomas muttered with a fond roll of his eyes as he crossed the room and settled down in his usual seat at the window, pulled out a copy of House of Dreams and settled to read. He just...He looked so lovely that Dylan barely noticed himself crossing the room and crouching next to him until Thomas was looking at him curiously, eyes slightly wide. 

"I'm glad you're happy again, Tommy". He doesn't mean to say it but it's like he's under a spell because ever so tenderly he's tipping his head and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Thomas' cheek before walking away just as Ki-Hong comes exploding into the room with a Shyniqua-style

"Alright you crazy old fool, care to tell me  _why_ I have an uneaten- oh."

Dylan's pleased, to say the least. The students all have good reactions, coming into the classroom alone or in two's and cheering up the moment they spot the desk. Isaac came straight over to him with a little wrapped up package clutched to his chest and everyone seemed to turn away from them then, as though giving Isaac the privacy to talk to Dylan and he felt his heart swell for all of them. Especially Isaac, who looked nervous and close to tears.

It turned out to be a scarf, soft and long and in the prettiest shade of gray Dylan's ever seen, with black ends and Dylan lets Isaac tie it around his neck so it's perfect. Dylan gives Isaac his present early.

In fact, it seems everyone either planned this together or just had the same idea because while Dylan has a present for them all, they all have presents for him too. Ki-Hong gets him a jumbo set of Sharpies having noticed Dylan's obsession with them. Jessie and Holland approach him at once and kiss his cheeks and he wears the lipstick marks proudly for the rest of the class. By the time the lesson is halfway through they're all stuffing their faces and sharing funny stories and watching funny video clips.

Isaac is, for once, chatting happily away to Jordan and Tyler and Alfie, apparently teaching them how to swear in French and Thomas doesn't leave Dylan's side. Ki-Hong stuffs the footballs up his shirt again and chases Tyler around with them. It's nice, Dylan thinks, sitting on one of the bench-desks as watching them all. He's going to miss this. Miss all these idiots. 

He'd given Isaac his number and told them all they're welcome to add him on Facebook. And he'd only felt slightly like a creepy weirdo while doing it.

He's so busy watching he doesn't notice Thomas is right besides him until there's a fair cake being held up by his nose and he goes cross-eyed staring at the pink icing. Thomas snorted softly from besides him and eventually Dylan just told the laws to go fuck themselves and leant forwards, sinking his teeth into the cake and taking a bite. The snickering besides him stopped. Nobody payed them any attention. 

Dylan and Thomas ate side by side, Thomas holding the fairy cake out and calling Dylan an idiot every time he folded in half downwards to take a bite. It was nice. It was calm. Companionable. Towards the end of the lesson they all gathered in a little circle and chatted. And by the time the lesson bell went for the end of school, nobody was quite  _sad_ about him leaving now that they had other means by which to see him. 

All the same, it takes them twenty minutes after the bell has gone to actually  _leave the classroom_ and even then Dylan turns to find Thomas sitting on the desk, Dylan's pass wrapped up his arm. They both know the reason he's there so neither of them bother with small talk or pretense. Even though, when Dylan's  _right there in front of him_ he can't resist pointing out that Thomas has blue icing on his lower lip. _  
_

He also can't resist sucking it off slowly, tongue running over the skin until it's smooth and clean and Thomas is putty in his arms.


	2. The (Slightly Un) Fortunate Adventures of Pigface O'Brosey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Dylan had known that when he agreed to let T-Pose keep the Devil Cat it would earn him a scratched face, a reason to get rid of the hideous Christmas jumper Heckles bullied him into wearing and a new boyfriend, he might have agreed with a little more enthusiasm.  
> Maybe.

He was tired, groggy, sick of Christmas and in desperate need of caffeine by the time he got home from work. All he wants is a warm coffee, comfy pyjamas and cuddles with Tyler P and that's what he's determined to damn well get.

And, of course and because of Posey (as usual), it's exactly what he  _doesn't get_ because the moment he flung open the door to their apartment there was a devilish scream of "Don't let her get away!" and a furry ball of imminent death flying towards him.

It says how much he loves Tyler that he doesn't think twice before flinging himself to the ground like a bomb went off, scrambling across the ground and flailing to grab a handful of fluffy scruff before the animal can get to the open door. Holding the spitting, hissing, yowling Furry Terror out at arms length, he eased himself to his feet, frowning at the scratches on his arms. Now he's covered in dust, glitter and fur.

Tyler comes careening around the corner like a newborn colt a few second later. And there's nothing for it but "Dude, you look like you got dragged through a thorn bush backwards".

Tyler looks completely unapologetic, and apparently doesn't mind his new afro as he steps forwards to ease the Devil Cat from Dylan's grip. Either Tyler is completely oblivious to the way the cat sinks her claws into his biceps and unwillingly accepts the cuddle with a low and warning growl or he's just ignoring it. Dylan rather hopes it's the latter otherwise he's got some animal behaviour explaining to do.

The cat is quite big, chunky more like. Big boned. She's not fat, that much is clear and Dylan already has an image in his mind on what she might look like if you dunked her in the bathtub.

Then the situation dawns on him.

" _Why_ did I just break my left leg for a cat?" he seethed, and Tyler instantly cast him the melty dark chocolate puppy dog eyes. Dylan knows this is where the sob story and the begging and guilt-tripping comes in and thus he held up a hand. "Actually, coffee first. Put that damned thing in a basket. I'd like to hold my cup with all ten fingers".

Unsurprisingly Tyler really does have a basket for the cat and ten minutes, some loud yowling and a few puppy yelps later Tyler joins him at the table and gratefully takes the second steaming mug o'joe from the counter, taking a sip. Dylan copies, and eyes him patiently over the rim of his mug. Tyler gets two sips in before it all comes spilling up in a tear-sodden, pleading tidal wave.

"So I was on my way home from work and the main road was blocked so I thought I'd take the turning, yeah? Logic, I thought. What would Dylan do? So I turn off and there I am heading along when there's this animal shelter, right? And it just jumps at me. Not literally, like. It's a building. All concreted down and stuff. But there was this sign outside with a picture of this cat -our cat. I mean maybe our cat- and it was saying like, 'Last Chance', right? So I pulled over to have a quick look and apparently nobodies wanted her for a long time-"

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Can't imagine why" he muttered, and glanced away at the 'Look' Tyler gave him.

"-Anyway, it was saying that if she didn't get adopted before Christmas Eve they were gonna have to put her down because she'd been there for like, a year and they needed the room for more animals. And I couldn't just let them put her down for no reason! I mean, I get they need room for others and I'm not saying that-" Tyler cut himself off when Dylan held up a hand, and set his mug down. The mug being put down meant Srs Busnis was about to happen.

Dylan was well used to Tyler's string of nonsense by now and his brain had translated as his best friend spoke, and he now realized that there was no way they could get rid of this cat. No way  _he_ could get rid of this cat. He might hate it already but he's not a heartless in-human being with no loving soul. No animals deserves to be put down for a reason as easily solved as that. Tyler must know it too because he looks like he's just waiting for the yes to be voiced before he goes nuts about it and Dylan prays that it wasn't just an elaborate story made up to trick him into adopting another random cat that turns out to be the crazy old lady's next door. (That was a wild week Dylan will never forget).

Eventually, there's not much more he can do than unwillingly nod once and it earns him a lapful of over-sized Labrador, Tyler snuffling into his ear and neck and yipping "Thank you!" over and over. He's only a tiny bit hesitant when he agrees to Dylan's condition that  _he_ gets to name the cat. 

Tyler's appalled at the name he chooses, but doesn't even attempt to argue or sneakily coach the cat into responding to a different name. 

Pigface doesn't seem to have much affection for them, either. Though she'll suffer the odd hug or pet from Tyler with only minimal savagery. When Dylan wakes up to find her in his bed he has to resort to threatening to get a very large, very undomesticated dog in order to get her  _out_ of his bed. Even then she spat at him before leaving with her tail in the air. Dylan would feel affronted but she'd pissed on Posey's pillow yesterday night so he can only count himself lucky.

It's when he's showering that Tyler  _H_ comes padding into the bathroom with what looks like the most hideous Christmas jumper draped over his forearm that Dylan's ever seen.

He hopes to got that horrid coloured blob is just because of the shampoo he got in his eyes a moment ago and it's not actually a hideous Christmas jumper. 

He also takes a moment to think about the fact that he's more mortified at a jumper than he is about the fact that his other best friend is just sitting on the closed toilet lid and watching him scrub between his butt cheeks. Then he remembered he's been friends with  _Tyler Posey_ since he accidently knocked him out in kindergarten with a garden trowel and decides that actually, it's normal for him to be more mortified at the jumper.

As he turned around to let the shower water wash away the suds from his butt-crack, he eyed the jumper icily. "Heckles.  _Please_ tell me that is not the most hideous Christmas jumper I've ever seen over your arm and  _please_ tell me you're not about to tell me it's for me".

Heckles just grins, bunny teeth and all.

It's not even anywhere  _near_ christmas.

When Dylan gets out of the shower T2 are curled up on the couch and Pigface is curled up in Heckles' lap purring away. Even T-Pose looked put off.

"Huh. Guess evil really does stick around with evil" he muttered, and Heckles fondly (he hoped) shot him the middle finger.

"What's her name, anyway?" he asked, and Tyler P scrunched his nose, looking pained. "Pigface O'Brosey" he muttered, so quietly that anyone without Heckles' freaky super senses wouldn't have heard it. As it was. Tyler H is still for a few moment, before he starts cackling.

Pigface fits into their routines without much fuss. Dylan learns to always barricade the front door and Tyler learns the painful way not to fall asleep on the couch unless Dylan is with him and awake. 

Heckles gets along just fine when he comes over, provided that he just lets himself be used as a couch and doesn't try to coddle or over-pet. 

They manage a week before it all goes to shit.

They've all gotten used to the routines. Used to the strange and highly flexible poses you needed to do when coming in or out of the front door to ensure that Pigface doesn't get out. Dylan's got it down to an art form. Tyler just looks that weird normally. Heckles only has to step through the door. (Pigface is either intimidated or thinks of Heckles as another evil being like herself because she never seems to care much about what he does).

And it's totally Posey's fault that Pigface gets out. No matter what he says.

At first, they don't even notice the absence of the Devil Cat. It's been a busy day and all they have on their minds ready for the weekend ahead is the well-practised and perfected routine of food-shower-dress-food-couch-TV all night-crash. Pigface never joins them, and tends to just glower at them from a high surface so it's not like she's always in their faces for them to notice.

Which is why it's around midnight when Tyler realizes that not once since they got home have they been hissed at, scratched, bitten or shed blood via feline attack.

"Dude, where's Pigface?".

Dylan looked up, mildly startled. "How the hell would  _I_ know where that furry little Devil-Bitch is? She's  _yours"._

Tyler's long stopped protesting that Pigface belongs to both of them. They just kind of...Stand there for a few seconds before shrugging.

"Dude, she's probably in a shelf somewhere or pissing in your underwear drawer".

Tyler doesn't look convinced, but he nods anyway and goes off to look for her. Usually they have to surgically remove her from the others' face before they can settled down on the couch. The fact that they haven't had to today could mean a variety of things. Dylan only feels the tiniest bit guilty for  _hoping_ that Pigface got out and will never come back. He just really misses his Posey time, y'know?

Tyler schleps in an hour later red-cheeked and empty armed and Dylan helps him forget about it for a bit with crap American TV and crap American junk food. It works for all of two hours until Tyler stood up and shook his head.

"I dunno, man. I'm gonna go look around for her again".

Dylan gave a soft snort, but heaved himself up, clapping him on the shoulder with a soft, slightly forlorn sigh. So much for their brodate.

"Alright, Ty. I'll help you look".

 

Pigface goes missing for a week.

During which Dylan takes up extra shifts just so he doesn't have to hang around Tyler, who's acting like a mother who lost her child. Dylan only just managed to stop him putting up posters everywhere. The last thing they need is the entire world knowing that they're adult young men with jobs and a house of their own who can't even keep a cat for more than a goddamn week. Dylan is already dreading the day one of them spawns an offspring.

They're routine no longer consists of the living habits of fat, lazy people. Now it's home-shower-dress-search all goddamn night-crawl home and into bed-wake up-go to work-repeat. Even Heckles got involved, asking the other Deputies (Dylan will forever use American terms, no matter how far into Britain he delves) to keep an eye out for any and all signs of the missing Devil Cat. He'd come home unimpressed that he'd had to ask the Station to keep an eye out for 'Pigface O'Brosey'. Apparently he'd had to punch one of them just to be feared by all again. 

Dylan's not that bothered, to be honest with himself. Pigface was more of a nuisance than a loved family pet. Dylan was an unwilling captive who most certainly was not going to develop Stockholm Syndrome for her. He could just about sleep in his own bed. Now, he can sprawl out wherever he wants, eat whatever and walk around naked without risk of castration. 

But he's also sick of Tyler moping like an unloved Juliet. It's been a week. Maybe Pigface has found a new family, or been picked up again by a shelter. Though if it was the latter then Dylan knows they would have gotten a phone call. Pigface was chipped to Tyler's name, with Dylan as a sort of 'second option'. (He wasn't gonna lie, he'd been a little miffed. Did their bromance mean nothing?!).

There's a new guy in the apartment block. Everyone knows about it but Dylan knows he, Tyler and Heckles (Who's around so much that their landlord joked he'd have to charge him rent too) are the only ones who haven't met him yet. This apartment block was small, just three stories high with eight apartment. Four on the second floor, four on the top one. Everyone inside was lovely, like one large family, which is why Dylan had learnt about the new guy and how lovely he was from Mrs.Abbett across the hall. Who'd also informed him that he must have started a trend, because this lovely young man had a cat too.

The point with this trail of thought is that Tyler's only just on the mend from losing Pigface and the last thing Dylan needs is some pretty boy waving his pampered feline in Tyler's face. Because it's gonna end in ugly sobbing and bawling and wrecked emotions for yet another week and Dylan might actually have to just get another cat. Or a new Tyler. 

Either way, the new guy has to at least be warned that if something happens revolving around his cat and a floppy haired 6" man puppy child with an uneven jaw, it's in no way his fault, Dylan's fault, or the fault of the cat. 

Really it's Tyler's fault but Dylan is sympathetic so all the blame is being dumped on the absent Pigface.  Which Dylan thinks is totally unfair because if something is  _his_ fault he never hears the end of it. Yet Pigface has an entire apartment block and a police force out looking for her.

Once more back to the point, Dylan's being a good neighbour and is currently on his way to check his mail and then go find this new guy and warn him about the situation. Obviously twisting it a little so they don't sound like terrible people and he doesn't sound like a complete and utter cat-hating jerk. He' even taken the time to through what he was going to say. For example he was going to call the Devil Cat 'O'Brosey' instead of Pigface when explaining.

He'd bought a welcome pie, too. Apple. Everyone loved apple pie.

Getting the mail went smoothly. It was bills, a condolences letter from Ryan Kelley about Pigface (Dylan just  _knew_ the Deputy was taking the piss out of him) and more bills. They all went into his back pocket, and then it was to the reception desk to find out which apartment the new guy lived in. Johnny, the landlord, was all too happy to see him. Asked about the search for Pigface, cheerfully told Dylan where to find the new guy and went back to watching baseball.

Apartment 6. Just a few doors down from Dylan.

"Huh. Guy must be a bit of a recluse, then" he mumbled to himself, traipsing back up the stairs and dragging himself across to 6, knocking on the door as politely as he could remember his mother teaching him. He was fine. He was prepared. He was 100% capable.

_Until a baby-faced god of beauty opened the door._

He nearly dropped the pie.

"Hi". 

He had a smooth, suave British accent and fucking  _dimples._ His hair was fluffy and sort of honey-coloured, and he was pale in a nice way. And his  _eyes._ Jesus christ. Realizing that he'd just been standing there and gaping, and he spurred himself into action. The guy's eyes drifted downwards, and he gave a sort of snuffled laugh.

"My god. That's...That's one hell of a Christmas jumper".

What?

"Oh! Hi! Sorry, I spaced out a little there. But, um, I live just down the hall and I realized I haven't said 'Hi' yet so I just wanted to...Um...Say it? And trust me. I didn't choose the jumper. i was bullied into wearing it." Dylan winced. It was jumbled and ended up like a question but it was worth it because the guy giggled and bloody hell. His nose scrunched in the cutest damned way and his eyes went into adorable little lash frames and Dylan really needed to stop thinking before he had to use the pie as a boner cover.

"Well, hi again! My name is Thoma-" there's a noise in the background and Thomas gave a small little 'oh' and twisted, scooped up his cat and-

"What the actual fuck".

Thomas was frowning now and Dylan instantly regretted saying it, bit literally  _what the actual fuck._ Thomas wasn't just holding a cat. He was holding Tyler's cat.

"That's the cat!".

He clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. Thomas was looking lost. "Um...Yeah, I guess?" he sounded a little amused, but mostly confused. Dylan groaned, shaking his head. Looked back up and felt the need to start reciting the Bible or something because clearly this guy was the Devil himself. It was the only way to explain why Pigface was snuggling up to him, resting over the guys inner elbow and purring away as he kissed her ear and fussed at her neck. 

His face must have been doing something negative because Thomas was looking a little worried now, and he stepped aside slightly. "Hey, um, could I make you a cup of tea? You look like you need to talk about something" he offered, turning away and leading into the apartment and Dylan scrunched his nose, but sighed and followed anyway, shutting the door quietly. For a cat kidnapper, this guy was actually pretty nice. And hot.

Hella hot.

So he padded in after him, faltering a little when he noticed two cat bowls in the hallway, and a cat basket in what seemed to be the living room.

When he found the kitchen, he found Pigface sitting on the counter besides Thomas, washing her face with her paws while Thomas filled up the kettle and stuck it on, then pottered around getting out two mugs. Dylan was so lost in staring at the fucking cat that he didn't hear Thomas' question, and once startled out of his trance sheepishly asked him to repeat it.

"I asked what you had in your tea?" Thomas asked again, head tilting with a cute little smile. Dylan blinked demurely for a moment, before inhaling.

"Oh! Right. Yeah, milky with two slightly heaped sugars, please". He'd need something sweet. Especially if he was going to tackle the fact that this guy  _had his cat._

Pigface seemed to recognise him, too, because now she was just sitting and staring.  
And glaring.

Dylan begun to run through how he could tackle this. He couldn't just outright accuse the guy of stealing their cat. Especially not if Pigface liked Thomas. Because then obviously Thomas was Satan and not to be messed with. But at the same time he sort of had to get Pigface back or Tyler will forever be a snivelling wet towel and Heckles will forever be laughing at him for losing a cat. To be honest, Dylan was at a little bit of a loss. Because this guy was hotter than the sun, possibly Satan, and in possession of his week-missing cat.

"So. I uh, take it you know Runner?" it's spoken and phrased oddly, Thomas' nose scrunching as though he doesn't quite know how to get the words off his tongue and Dylan blinked.

"Runner?".

"I couldn't think of anything else. She's bloody fast".

Dylan can only choke down a quiet 'Oh, I know'. It earns him another odd look, and he gave a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. The kettle gave a soft little 'ting' noise and Thomas excused himself to turn around, pour the water and stir, and then handed Dylan a steaming hot mug of sweet, milky tea. "Thank you" he murmured, staring at it absently for a moment. When he looked back up, Thomas was settled on the other bar stool at the kitchen island, Pigface snuggled up to his chest. She wasn't purring, but she looked pleased.

Or smug. It could be smug.

Great, he was getting goaded by a bloody  _cat._

Thomas was sitting patiently, and Dylan shifted and gave a little cough and took his hands from his mug, picking at his belt.

"Look. Um...I don't really know how to tell you this. Or even how to start really" Thomas' head had tilted like a confused puppy by now and Dylan took a moment to find it incredibly endearing, before pointing accusingly at Pigface. (Because this entire thing was her fault). "But that, is my cat. Well, my shared cat. Really she belongs to Tyler but he insists she's mine too".

Thomas stared at him before a moment, before letting out a relieved sigh.

 _Relieved._ Like he expected Dylan to tell him that an entire family had been murdered by Caspar's evil twin in this apartment or something.

"Oh, thank god! I was beginning to think she was just a stray".

"What?" Dylan winced. He sounded blunt and in disbelief but he couldn't help it. Thomas stared at him for a moment, before his lips parted.

"Oh! I should explain. Obviously, she's not mine. When my friend and I were bringing all the boxes up we used a paperweight to keep the door open. She must have slipped inside and hidden until everything had calmed down, because after Gally left and I started unpacking everything I found her in my sweater box. Every time I put her outside she just found a way back in. She's been with me about a week. Sweet little thing. I'm so sorry. I thought she was a stray, so I let her stay here. If I'd have known she was yours I would have said she was here" he sounded so sincere and apologetic and Dylan liked him even more now that he wasn't a catnapper.

"Sounds about right" he agreed. "She's been gone a week. One of us accidentally let her slip through the front door and we didn't notice until the next morning. But she's not sweet. Not at all" he disagreed on that part, shaking his head lightly. Thomas just looked at him, gaze flicking down to where he was rubbing Pigface's cheek gently and she was ever so quietly purring. 

Dylan shrugged. "Well. She's sweet on evil people -no offence-. The only person in our household she snuggles up to is Heckles. And even then she doesn't let him cuddle her. If anything he's just a couch. Me and Tyler are her personal claw sharpeners. Here;" he stood, rounded the island and stopped at arms length away from Pigface. Already she was staring straight at him, and no longer purring. Dylan clucked hi tongue ever so gently, reaching out slowly towards her.

She let him get within reach before hissing like a possessed dragon and thwapping at him with one paw, claws extended.Dylan snatched his arm back just in time, and looked pointedly across at Thomas. The Brit looked astounded, but nodded slowly anyway.

A sudden explosion of dubstep had them both jumping a mile, and Dylan scrambled for his phone apologetically while Thomas worked on unhooking Pigface's claws from his nice blue shirt.

"Heeeey, T-Po" Dylan greeted, voice ever so slightly strained. Oh god. How was he going to explain that for the past week, Pigface had been just a few doors across the hall from them? Being cat-sat by a greek god?

"Dylan! Hey man. Whas-sup? I was just calling to see if we were still having steak tonight or if you wanted something else?" Bless this man. Always double checking.

"Yeah, T. Hey, uh, we picked up three, didn't we?" he asked, head tilting slightly. It was a habit, like Thomas' seemed to be. Thomas was watching him but not blatantly staring, alternating between tea, cat and house guest. It was clear the guy had no idea what he was talking about.

"Yeah, why? Is Tyler coming over?" his best friend questioned, and Dylan could hear that Tyler P was pottering around in the apartment. Most likely the kitchen.

"No. Uh, someone else. I -we- have a surprise. I'll see you soon" Dylan hung up before Tyler could flurry a barrage of questions. He was aware that it sounded like he was bringing over a secret lover, and judging by the look Thomas was giving him when he looked back, Thomas had caught that scent too, and he shrugged helplessly.

"He got a cat without asking. Giving him a heart attack is the least I can do back. Um...Are you up for a trek a few doors right?" he asked, and Thomas gave a sort of half-smile and nodded, standing. He offered Dylan the cat, but Dylan held up his hands and took a step away. "Are you kidding? I like my arms, thanks".

They downed their tea quickly, and then Dylan was holding the door open for Thomas as they left. Dylan remembered the apple pie he'd left on the counter, and run a hand through his hair. "Wow. Apple pie and being accused of stealing a cat. And then being dragged out to return said cat. This...I'm not making a good impression, huh?" he asked, sheepish and apologetic and Thomas just smiled at him, shrugging.

"Well. It's better than being boring and turning up with a tea cake and nice greeting then rarely ever seeing each other bar niceties in the hallway" Thomas hummed, and Dylan couldn't help but think that that ending sounded a lot like Thomas wanted to see him often. Which, he was certainly being hopeful on that. He'd just accused the guy of kidnapping his cat, and was now dragging him around. That was hardly best friend material. Or dating material. 

Whoah. Where did  _that_ come from?!

Over taking by just a step, Dylan bounded forwards and unlocked the door to his apartment, but after pushing it open he didn't enter. Soon enough Tyler came screeching around the corner, ready to bombard Dylan with questions only to skid to a halt by the door.

"Pigface!"

Thomas gave a startled yelp-laugh. "Excuse me?".

Dylan smacked his hand to his face with a groan, before rounding on Thomas. "The cat! Her name is Pigface. Pigface O'Brosey. I'll explain later, if we you want me to" he mumbled, before Tyler was dragging Pigface from Thomas' grip, claws and teeth be damned. 

Even Thomas looked openly startled at the flurry of furry hatred that ensued, Dylan leaping forwards to peel the Devil Cat from Tyler's face. With a yowl of disdain, Pigface shot off into the apartment. No doubt to piss on their pillows. When Dylan recovered he found Tyler just standing there, staring at Thomas. Who in turn was standing there trying not to make eye-contact with Tyler. 

"Right. So. We've established that Pigface is actually Satan with fur, and that Thomas is not our catnapper but actually our cat saviour. Right. Into the kitchen everyone. Thomas, I dearly hope that you're not a vegetarian".

As he bounded off into the kitchen he could just about hear a dazed "No, I like meat" and then Tyler snorting and responding with "Oh, you swing that way too?".

 

Looking back, it wasn't the best greeting. Dylan ended up losing half his steak to Pigface, Tyler had to get a line of stitches on his eyebrow from when he'd snatched her off Thomas, and Thomas had spent the afternoon in a trance-like daze over finding, being accused of kidnapping, and then losing a cat he'd grown quite fond of.

But it all worked out for the best.

"I still insist you're Satan".

Thomas groaned, and let his head loll to the side, grinning across at Dylan with dimples forming moon craters in his cheeks. "Oh yeah?" he asked, voice teasing. They had this conversation at least once a week. They're in Dylan and Tyler's apartment, but Posey had dutifully left with a booty salute a few hours earlier to spend the night with Heckles and give them some alone time. 

Thomas had tricked Pigface into a cat basket and after an hour of Hellish sounds, she'd quietened down and gone to sleep. Dylan wasn't fooled though. He knew he'd lose a finger or something the moment she was let out. 

"Yup. I mean, there's the cat, for one. Then that ass, which by all means should be made illegal. Then there's the cat. And that mouth of yours with it's cute little accent. And then the cat. And then there's the way you smile and your eyes go all crinkly and cute. And then there's-"

"The cat" Thomas finished, grinning at him as he rolled over, eskimo kissing him before tipping his head so their lips pressed together slowly, the plush velvet sliding together as they kissed, and then Thomas was pulling away, snuggling down against his chest with his eyes drifting shut.

"You can see what I mean with the cat, though" he reasoned after a moment, tucking his hands into the back pockets of Thomas' jeans. He loved doing that. Thomas' butt was round and glorious and warm and comfy to rest on. He often used it as a pillow. Thomas never minded. Dylan thought it was like having an odd set of mittens. 

"You're the one who named her Pigface" Thomas muttered back into Dylan's collarbones, and Dylan gave a smile, nosing down into Thomas' fluffy hair. Pigface had taken the liberty of pissing all over the christmas jumper Heckles got him and tearing it into soggy ribbons, so he wasn't all that mad.

He might even get her a pack of cat nip or something.


End file.
